


Blue Snowflakes Start Falling

by broadwayblainey



Series: Blue Christmas [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: Klaine Advent Drabble Challenge 2017, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2017-12-04
Packaged: 2019-02-14 02:46:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12998154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/broadwayblainey/pseuds/broadwayblainey
Summary: Kurt Hummel's life is in pieces; he lost his job, his husband kicked him out and his Dad isn't talking to him. Meeting a cute, hair gelled man on a bridge could turn things around. Maybe even save his life.This is for the Klaine Advent prompt: Collapse.Warning for suicide/suicidal thoughts, though no suicide happens in this chapter.





	Blue Snowflakes Start Falling

He was tapping his fingers on the metal railing that came up to his waist and ran along the length of the bridge. It was a nervous habit that he was trying to kick so he wrapped his arms around himself, rubbing his open palms along his biceps to try and fend off the late December London winds. He leaned forward and peered over the railing. There was a ledge, maybe two feet wide. It would easily be wide enough for him to stand on, and he tried to ignore the choppy water way down below.  
   The bridge was deserted. It was long past midnight on Christmas Eve - or Christmas morning, he supposed - no one else would be mad enough to be out here at this time, in this stupid weather.  
   It had snowed earlier, so Kurt used his arm to wipe the thin layer of snow that had settled on the railing in front of him. One leg went up and over the bar easily, and he clambered over, landed heavily onto the ledge, with probably as little grace as possible. It was slippery so he steadied himself, and looked around. Nobody had seen, nothing had changed.  
   Kurt felt odd. No, actually, he didn't. He didn't feel anything. After weeks of feeling so much every minute of every day, he finally felt nothing. There was no fear, no sadness; he was calm for the first time since his boss had told him he would be let go barely six weeks before Christmas. For the first time since his husband had found him with another man's mouth on his, eventually unwinding the two month long affair he'd been having just to feel something other than the headiness of having his life slip away from him. For the first time since his dad had sighed down the phone and told him that, of all the things he'd ever felt for his son, he'd never been disappointed until that moment. For the first time since it seemed like his whole life just collapsed around him. Everything was just quiet and still.  
   Until it wasn't.  
   "Hey!" a voice from behind startled him, he swayed slightly on the ledge, holding onto the bars behind him to steady himself. He heard thumping footsteps come up behind him. "Are you okay?" the voice asked, closer this time. A man's voice, he surmised, bright and concerned.  
   "Oh, yeah," he scoffed, squeezing his eyes shut against the cold wind. "I'm perfect." The man behind him chuckled.  
   "I'm sorry. That was a dumb question," he apologised. It was quiet for a minute. The wind picked up again and Kurt let out quick, nervous breaths. "Are you about to do what I think you're about to do?"  
   Kurt nodded, opening his eyes and looking at the grey water below him. A flash of vertigo took a hold of him and he looked straight ahead again, out over London.  
   "You should go," he told the stranger behind him, still not looking back at him. "You don't want to see this."  
   "Oh," the man replied. "That's an accent I recognise." Kurt hadn't noticed, the stranger was American, too. "Where are you from?"  
   "Ohio," Kurt answered, breathing harder.  
   "No way," the man answered. "Me, too. This must be fate."  
   "Fate has a twisted, twisted sense of humour," Kurt said, almost laughing. The man laughed in reply.  
   "That she does," he agreed. He was quiet for a second before Kurt heard him sigh loudly. "What's your name?"  
   "You don't have to do this,"  
   "I think I do," he said. "I can't let the only other Ohioan in London jump of a bridge. What's your name?"  
   "I'm Kurt."  
   "I'm Blaine," the man, Blaine, told him. "This isn't the way Kurt."  
   "You really don't know me, I could be a serial killer," Kurt said, he chanced another look down and his stomach twisted. His eyes filled up and a sobbed choked up his throat, he brought his hand up and covered his mouth."  
   "Oh, sweetheart," Blaine sighed, he'd moved closer again. Probably leaning over the railing, Kurt thought, but he didn't look. "That's simply not true. I know your name is Kurt. You're from Ohio. You're wearing beautiful boots, but they're not practical for standing on an icy ledge, a terrible choice for this winter weather." Kurt laughed then, tears still running down his cheeks. "Ah, I was right," Blaine told him. "You have a beautiful laugh, too."  
   He laughed again, a proper laugh this time. He hadn't done that for a while.  
   "Talk to me," Blaine said, voice soft. "Why are you here?"  
   "I'm really not going to spill all of my problems to a man I met fifteen seconds ago," Kurt hissed, voice as frantic as he felt. He let go of the railings suddenly, swaying again in the wind. He shuffled closer the edge.  
   "Hey, Kurt, come on," Blaine's voice was panicked now and Kurt tried to ignore him. "Kurt, look at me."  
And he did, he turned on the ledge and looked up. Blaine was handsome, even in the badly lit London night. Too much gel in his hair, but pretty, warm eyes wide with concern and a sweet, sad smile.  
   "Come on, come over the railing."  
   "I can't," Kurt shouted, his feet slipped on the ice below him and he grabbed onto the railing, balancing himself. The sobs came again and shook his whole body. "I can't do this anymore."  
   "Okay," Blaine whispered, he leaned in again until he was only a foot, at most, away from Kurt. "So, don't."  
   "You're really not very good at this," Kurt said around his sobs. Blaine chuckled.  
   "I'm sorry," he said. "I just meant, whatever it is in your life that's making you feel like this, can probably be fixed." He cleared his throat and squinted against the wind. It had started to snow, Kurt noticed, and he shivered against the cold. "Whatever it is; job, relationship, family, just life in general. Whatever. It can be fixed."  
   "I got fired and my husband left me and my Dad won't speak to me right now because I've been such an ass and I -" his words were rushing out all in one breath so he stopped himself to take a deep gasp. He figured the strange man in front of him had already seen him cry and was literally talking him off a ledge, so his pride had probably gone out the window. Or off the bridge. Something like that. "I just really don't know what to do."  
   "Wow, shitty Christmas," Blaine said. Kurt coughed out a short laugh and nodded. Blaine looked at him, his mouth was moving as if he was looking for the right words to say but couldn't find them. "I don't know how to fix all that right now," he started, then he smiled at him, almost shyly. "But have you ever spent Christmas with four struggling actors in an apartment with no heat?"  
   "Why the hell would I have done that?"  
   "I don't know," Blaine answered. "But, it's what I'm doing tomorrow, or today, I guess. And there's definitely room for one more. Even if you have no husband or Dad to spend Christmas with, you don't need to be alone."  
   "Do you make a habit of asking strangers home with you?" Kurt asked, he barely recognised his own voice, it was thin and shaky. Tired, so tired.  
   "Only the handsome ones," he quickly replied. "and it's not my home, it's my friends so, if you are a serial killer, I'm really no worse off."  
Kurt laughed quietly, wiping the tears from his cheeks with a shaking, freezing cold hand.  
   "Give me your hand, Kurt." Blaine said, holding out a gloved hand for Kurt to take. He looked at Blaine for a second, before taking it. He was so warm and Kurt was so cold, shaking all over. All at once, everything was spinning, like he'd been running on adrenaline and everything caught up with him. It was getting harder to breathe so he was panting slightly, huffing in snowflakes. He was stood on the edge of a bridge in nothing but black jeans, a thin navy shirt and black suede boots in December, he looked around and felt like he couldn't quite remember how he got there, like he'd been sleepwalking and woke up on a bridge holding a strangers hand. Like his life didn't belong to him anymore. Everything was so cold and he felt dizzy. He squeezed his eyes shut. "I promise, this will get better. I promise that if you jump, you'll realise that before you even hit the water."  
   "I don't even have anywhere to go tonight," he said, opening his eyes but looking down at his boots, tears still steadily streaming down his cheeks.  
   "Then we'll stay up all night," Blaine answered. "It's past three anyway, we'll walk around and find a cafe that's open at this time on Christmas Eve, drown ourselves in cocoa until we can't move."  
   Kurt looked up at him for a second. Then he nodded. Blaine smiled again, warm and so sweetly kind. He reached out and steadied Kurt when he climbed up and over the railing and back solidly onto the bridge. He was breathing fast and trembling all over. Suddenly, Blaine wrapped him up in a hard, gripping hug, crushing him against his chest and rubbing his hands up and down his back. Kurt turned his head and tucked his face into Blaine's neck, breathing him in deeply. His icy nose rubbed against the skin of Blaine's throat.  
   "God, you poor thing, you're freezing," Blaine said, pulling away from him and quickly stripping off his own thick, black jacket to wrap around Kurt. He did the same with his red wool scarf and tied it tight around Kurt's neck. Then, he stood back and looked at him, offering him a sad smile. "Next time, don't forget your jacket. Or you'll freeze to death before the water gets you."  
   "Please tell me you're not a therapist," Kurt said and realised Blaine had managed to make him laugh again.  
   "Oh, God, no," he assured him, laughing back. "Come on," he reached out and grabbed Kurt's hand and turned, pulling Kurt along the bridge. "Let's go find hot chocolate."


End file.
